


Once More I Trust To Have

by Moontyger



Series: Somebody Else's Story [8]
Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-01
Updated: 2007-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This really, really wasn't Mello's day. Lucky for him that Matt's used to both that and putting up with his crap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once More I Trust To Have

The first thing Mello noticed was how incredibly shitty he felt. His head was throbbing; his mouth had that awful dryness only produced by medication, and the less said about the still-recent burns the better. He felt like he had the hangover from hell, extra crispy, minus the actual fun first. He shifted, trying to ease at least some of the discomfort, and only then noticed he was wrapped around someone else, someone in bed with him, even though he'd never felt less like sleeping with someone in his life. What the hell? Who...? Oh. Realization returned slowly, and he forced his eyes open, wincing as the light hit them and made his headache worse. About time Matt had gotten over his shyness enough to actually share the bed with him. Sleeping on the couch had been stupid, but Mello hadn't given enough of a shit to argue. If Matt wanted to put himself out because he was being an idiot, why should he stop him?

The more immediate problem was actually getting out of bed. Mello sat up slowly, mentally cursing how weak he felt, casting a quick glance beside him to see if Matt were awake. Nope, just like when they were kids, Matt slept like the dead. He envied him for a moment, then turned to put his feet on the floor, bracing himself on the wall before he tried to stand. Good thing he did, too, as his head swam and vision went black; had he not had something to prop himself up with, he would have collapsed.

He waited until the apartment swam into focus around him, biting his lip to stifle any pained noises, before he took a step. All right, that wasn't so bad. One, two... shit. By the fourth step, his legs started to shake, and they gave out on the next one. Dammit. The bathroom felt as far away as the moon at the moment. Mello glanced back at Matt on the bed and wondered what the fuck he should do. Should he wake him?

No, dammit. He refused to be that needy, that weak. Sure, he felt like shit, but he wasn't _dying_. He'd just pushed himself too hard when injured. He stood up again, slowly, concentrating harder than he should have to just to fucking _stand_ , took a step... and somehow wasn't surprised to feel arms around his waist, a body behind him that felt cool and blessedly stable in contrast to his fevered, shaking one. Matt never let him down, despite everything. Mello needed him, and he was there. Almost every time. _Except the one that mattered most_ , an inner voice whispered, but he shoved it away. Like that was Matt's fault, or there was any point in blaming him for it? Had he been there, he'd probably be dead, too, instead of here, holding Mello when he was (almost) too sick to stand.

Mello let himself lean against Matt, closing his eyes a moment and just appreciating the feeling that he didn't have to do this alone. Not that he'd ever admit that he needed support, much less that confirmation of its existence was a relief, but it was. After what had happened, he was no longer sure he could do this, no longer sure of himself at all. He'd even been far enough gone to consider working with Near and God knew that meant his confidence had been badly shaken. Or maybe that had just been the fever.

He let Matt help him to the bathroom without quite admitting to himself that was what he was doing, though he insisted on privacy once they got there. If he couldn't manage to fucking pee by himself, he might as well give up. But Mello leaned on Matt pretty damn heavily afterwards and didn't even bother protesting at being taken back to bed. Not that he'd stay there all day, but a little longer wouldn't hurt. He hoped. God, he knew that Near was fine, was working, while here he was stuck in bed, trying desperately to recover as fast as he could so he could catch up, and it pissed him off. _Of course_ , Near was fine; the little bastard wouldn't know _how_ to take risks, much less actually do it. He wasn't capable of it, even when it needed to be done, so other people (Mello) wound up endangering themselves and paying the price. At least he'd managed not to let him see Mello like this; he'd rather die than look weak in front of his rival, much less have to depend on him to take care of him. The mere idea of it having been Near holding him, helping him walk, made him shudder. Thank God he'd left when he did.

When Matt got him back to the bed and tucked him in, he opened his mouth to make some lame joke, something about how if he wanted him, this was his best chance. But what came out surprised even Mello. “Matt... don't go.” Shit. Why the fuck had he said that? He must be even crazier than usual. Or maybe it was the drugs, making him say things he thought but normally wouldn't say. Yeah, he needed Matt at the moment. He'd come here knowing that, though it was hell admitting to himself that he couldn't do it alone. But he hadn't intended to say it, or do anything else to make it obvious.

He could, of course, make some excuse, something about knowing Matt was still tired or not running him out of his own bed, but neither of them would buy it. At least Matt still knew him well enough, even after all those years apart (even after he abandoned him, and dammit, _why_ was that inner voice so fucking loud today?) to say nothing in reply. The only sign that he had heard was that he _didn't_ leave, got back into bed next to Mello without a word, especially nothing meaningless meant to be comforting, which would only have embarrassed them both.

Mello rolled over onto his good side, watching Matt sleepily. Not that he was doing much but going back to sleep, but still he watched him. They had been apart a long time. Years, they had gone their separate ways. He wasn't sure if Matt had looked for him and not found him, or if he'd been too proud to look when he'd been left behind. Either was possible. He wondered idly if he'd missed him, or realized that he'd been missed.

Because Mello had missed him, more than he'd thought he would when he stormed out. He'd wanted to leave the past behind, make a clean start. Do things his way, as he'd said. But it had been hard, much harder than he'd expected, and lonely. No one had ever taken Matt's place; no one could. He didn't trust them enough. Thinking about that, remembering all the times he'd wanted to call and hadn't, staring at Matt's number and imagining a reaction he'd never see, at least not like that, he fell asleep.

When he woke again, the light in the room was late-afternoon gold and he felt better. Yeah, not great, but not like he was going to fall over if he tried to walk. Thank God, maybe he'd actually get some work done and not have to dismiss the entire day as a loss. Amazing the difference more sleep could make, for all he always tried to resist it with all his considerable stubbornness.

Matt had already gotten up, though Mello made a private bet with himself that he'd see him within five minutes of getting out of bed. He'd have won it, too; even though the trip to the bathroom went down without a hitch, so much better that the abortive earlier trip might have been a nightmare, some kind of dream caused by fever and painkillers, he had barely turned on the water when he felt arms around his waist again, offering support he didn't need.

“Mello, what are you doing?”

“Taking a shower, retard. What does it look like?” His tone was clipped, annoyed. It should be obvious that he didn't need help at the moment and Mello never accepted help he didn't need, not when it was offered like this: as a gift of devotion, offering strength to make up for Mello's weakness, rather than as tribute or admiration. It wasn't like he didn't need to shower; he felt filthy and could swear, for all he knew it was probably imagination, that he could smell a faint scent he associated with Near and his headquarters: an almost medicinal tang of cleaning products and a building that never got enough air, clinging to his skin and hair, reminding him of everything that went wrong, of all of his mistakes, the way that smoke and burning buildings smelled like failure to him now.

Matt sighed, practically exuding frustration, and Mello squashed a tiny twinge of guilt for putting him through this. Matt knew what he was like; he shouldn't have taken him in if he weren't prepared for it! It wasn't like Mello had deceived him, pretended to be saner, less driven, something stupid like that. Matt knew what Mello showing up at his door half-dead meant and he'd chosen to help him anyway.

Speaking of deception, though, he'd just had a wonderful idea. Mello grinned, his back still turned to Matt, handily keeping his expression hidden, pushing his hips backward just enough to rub against Matt. “You can always shower with me, if you're so worried.” This should be interesting.

Please, like he hadn't noticed the way Matt stared at him when he thought Mello wasn't looking? He was used to being watched with desire; of course he saw him watching and knew what it meant, even encouraged it, spreading his legs a little wider, bending over a little more often, making sure to give him something worth looking at. They both remembered the fooling around they had done years ago; Mello was sure of it, even though he'd never asked. It wasn't something either of them would forget. He wasn't even that surprised that Matt still wanted him despite the damage Kira had left behind, though he would have been with someone else. Matt wasn't that fucking shallow. The only thing he didn't understand was why he was being so damn hesitant about it.

Mello never could resist taking advantage of a situation like that, particularly when the attraction was mutual and the benefits outweighed the potential negatives. Hell, if it had solely been up to Mello, even with his injuries they'd have slept together within days of his arrival. But every time he brought it up or made a move, Matt shied away like some virgin who wanted to be wooed. Maybe he really did think Mello wasn't well enough, though he should know better. Maybe he was still pissed about Mello taking off alone like that. Whatever it was, it was bullshit. When had he become so damn fussy?

This current plan was perfect. Either Matt agreed to shower with him, with a predictable outcome, or he'd freak and get out of Mello's hair for awhile. Either way, Mello got something he wanted.

Matt released him, his expression uncertain, but he didn't quite look away as Mello stripped off his boxers. That was promising. Not like he hadn't seen him naked a couple of times recently, but this was different.

“Sure you want to let me shower alone? You're so worried about me after all.” Yeah, maybe sometimes he was right to be worried, but that didn't mean Mello didn't hate it and couldn't tease him about it; the fact that it was (possibly, he refused to concede that it could be any more certain than that) justified made it worse, not better. Damn it, he _hated_ being weak, hated that even his body betrayed him.

He dropped the boxers to the floor, a puddle of black on white tile (marking your territory, Mello?), and climbed in the shower without another word. Mello had presented the choice; now it was up to Matt to make up his mind.

Not that he wasn't interested in the outcome. Mello smirked at the muttered, “Shit,” and the sound of clothing being hurriedly removed. That was his preferred option, too; he was glad Matt went with that one. Now that he knew, he could turn his attention to actually showering rather than just standing under the water listening.

By the time Matt got in the shower, Mello was washing his hair, and rather wishing he wasn't. He'd almost forgotten how much such a simple task _hurt_ right now, pain bright and sharp as the motions pulled burned, raw flesh (he couldn't call it skin, not anymore; it didn't even seem part of him when he stared into a mirror, just something raw, alien, grafted onto him, hiding and distorting his features beneath its strange weight and yet, somehow, causing this rending pain of tortured nerves, forcing him to suffer its agony for all he denied its connection to himself). The heat of the shower hurt, the water like needles when he wasn't careful where it fell, and Mello was gritting his teeth just to get through this. Fuck, when would this _stop_?

“Mello...” Matt sighed, and tugged his left arm down, easing the pressure on his burned shoulder. “Let me do that.” Mello offered no resistance, closed his eyes and endured the indignity without a word. This was part of why he'd come here, as bitter as it was to admit, like chocolate without sugar, melting on the tongue and strong enough to tinge everything with the taste. Because he trusted Matt, enough to let him see Mello hurt, enough to let him ease it, at least a little, he'd come here, asked for help without quite saying the words. It wasn't the entirety of his motives, but it was there, undeniably.

He didn't submit to it with grace, however; he couldn't. Trust or no, it just wasn't in Mello to let himself be cared for often or willingly. Too much depended on him staying strong; he couldn't allow himself to be vulnerable, to be anything less than independent. Which was why, as soon as his hair had been rinsed, even before the pain had really subsided to the usual background ache, he looked at Matt, standing closer to Mello than he'd probably realized to wash his hair, and closed the remaining distance between them. Quickly, so Matt wouldn't shy away, he pressed his lips to his, his whole body leaning even closer, as though needing help with his hair had been merely a ploy intended to lead to this moment. They both knew the truth, but that made the pretense no less precious. Mello had paid too much for his illusions to surrender them easily, if at all.

Mello counted it as victory when Matt parted from him only slowly, reluctantly, when the tone of his voice as he said his name was far too breathy to be a protest. But then he'd won the moment Matt stepped into this shower with him and they both knew it.

He grinned, staring straight into Matt's eyes, his face strangely naked without his trademark goggles. Funny how quickly you could get used to something like that. He slid his hand between them, trailing down Matt's body in a long caress, and squeezed briefly. “You can't tell me you're not interested now.” Not that Matt had ever said that, not directly; he'd been more into dodging the issue, putting it off repeatedly. But now here they were, naked in more senses than the physical, and it was too late for that.

“No, damn you. I can't.” But he was grinning as he said it. “But Mello, don't -”

“Shut up.” Mello kissed him, not wanting to listen to cautions or warnings about not pushing himself too hard. Fuck that. He'd never listened before and he wasn't about to start now. “Do I need to prove that I'm fine?” He shoved Matt against the wall of the shower and kissed him harder.

“Yeah, maybe you do.” A familiar smirk that said he knew Mello could never resist a challenge ensured that Mello didn't take it too seriously and get pissed off at the suggestion that he was incapable of delivering on his promises, even the unspoken ones. Just like when they were kids daring each other to do stupid shit, only less likely to get them into trouble. No one was here to care what they did; those who once had had authority over them had lost it long ago, except occasionally in the depths of memory, habits formed too strongly to break. Not that any punishment had ever stopped Mello from doing something if he really wanted to.

Mello laughed, feeling almost euphoric with victory as he sucked the soft skin under Matt's jaw, nipping a line down his throat with sharp teeth, listening to Matt's breathing and the way it changed in response. “Breathless already, Matt? Maybe it's not me you should be worried about.” His laugh was teasing, but he couldn't quite hide the triumphant note in it. If this were a challenge, he was going to win it.

“Mello!” Matt protested, dragging Mello's head up with a hand under his chin and kissing him fiercely. “It's only because you're not letting me... dammit...” He broke off, panting, probably because Mello hadn't stopped to listen to him, sliding to his knees and nuzzling his stomach. Now that they were done with waiting, he didn't intend to hold back. “Don't you think you're moving a little fast?”

“The water's getting cold,” he pointed out, barely parting lips from skin, immediately losing himself in taste and scent, licking water away only to have it immediately replaced, tracing the line of his hip and the join of thigh and groin with his tongue, learning the contours of Matt's body with senses deeper than sight. Mello was mesmerized, drowning in warm waves of sensation, and he didn't want it to end. While he was like this, nuzzling, then licking the head of Matt's erect cock teasingly with the tip of his tongue, concentrating only on Matt's reactions and living in the moment, his own pain receded, nearly vanished, and Kira was the last thing on his mind.

Matt was leaning back against the wall, the moan he hadn't quite managed to stifle filling Mello's ears, echoing in such an enclosed space. Mello smiled to himself, pleased at his reaction, when he felt hands under his arms, pulling him upwards. He stared blankly at Matt, dark eyes glazed with desire and rapidly receding focus, speechless for just a moment. What the hell? It had been going so well... he knew Matt had been enjoying it... “Mello... stop,” Matt whispered, staring straight into his eyes, and even though his body protested, though Matt was still pressed against him as though he didn't really want this to end, Mello took him at his word.

“All right.” He moved away, turned off the shower, and grabbed a towel in silence. Mello dried himself carefully, barely touching his hair or burned skin, biting his lip and stubbornly not looking at Matt. He didn't know why he'd stopped him and he didn't need his help and dammit, why did he feel so fucking rejected? It wasn't like Matt were required to sleep with him; he'd never made it a condition of accepting his help. Fuck, if anyone could set conditions here, it was _Matt_ , not Mello! Mello had jack shit to offer; he'd lost everything. But he'd been so sure he'd finally won over Matt's mysterious resistance, that he had agreed, wanted it even. Wanted _him_ , no matter how hellish he looked now. Damn it!

He stormed into the bedroom, pulled on his pants in the most perfunctory manner possible, not even bothering with a shirt before going to sprawl on the couch with his laptop, hair dripping water all over. Like Mello gave a shit at the moment? His foul mood was far too obvious, but he didn't care about that either. He was in pain and now sexually frustrated and royally pissed off, whether he had any right to be or not. He didn't have any damn privacy here, so he'd do what he wanted and let Matt think whatever. Okay, _mostly_ what he wanted. Mello was pissed, but he wasn't exactly going to just jack off right here. Yet.

Silence, broken only by mad typing and the crinkle of chocolate wrappers and the pack of cigarettes Matt was working his way through. They didn't talk; Mello accepted a cup of coffee from Matt without even looking at him, managing somehow not to acknowledge his presence at all. Just part of the furniture. It was that or say things he'd regret and Mello had no bridges left to burn, so he kept his mouth shut, an unwilling slave to necessity.

It was dark before Matt snapped on a light and came to sit on the couch, picking Mello's legs up and depositing them on his lap matter-of-factly. “Okay, Mello. Time to stop sulking. What, am I the only person to ever stop you once you'd started?”

Mello glared at him, pondered saying yes. How dare he look so calm, even lighthearted? Couldn't he see that he'd hurt him? He'd get up and leave if he had anywhere else to go. Hell, he might anyway, if Matt kept pushing.

Matt sighed and lit another cigarette. “From the way you're glaring, I'm guessing the answer is no. So what the hell is your problem?”

At that, Mello lost it. “ _My_ problem? What the hell is _your_ problem? I'm not the one acting like he's scared! What, you want me to believe you're some shy virgin, never been touched? I may not have been here, but I know better than that!” He did, too. Mello was nothing if not nosy and he'd kept tabs on Matt over the years. He didn't know everything, but enough to know he was right. “Too damn good for me now? Afraid I'm a shitty lay? What the hell is your _damage_?” He was too damn mad to care that his ranting showed how much Matt's pussyfooting around the issue had hurt, sandpaper over nerves already laid bare.

Matt looked at him, and for a moment, he thought he saw pity in his eyes. Could today get any worse? That was one thing he never wanted from Matt; hell, one of the unspoken rules of his stay here was that Matt could care for him, even offer sympathy on occasion, but not pity. Even now, shattered in more ways than the obvious, with nowhere to go, pity was a deal-breaker.

He jumped to his feet, far too upset to feel pain or exhaustion, and headed for the door. Maybe Hal would take him in for one more night, until he found somewhere else, though truthfully he wasn't thinking much about destinations anyway. Anywhere that wasn't here would do for now, even better if he could get someone who'd keep their damn mouth shut to warm his bed and make him feel less alone. Mello had thought Matt would do that for him, not even as a favor but because he _wanted_ to, wanted Mello no matter how broken he was, but apparently he'd been mistaken.

Matt rarely surprised Mello much. Compared to his own lightning moods, swift and deadly, Matt was steady as a rock and nearly as dependable. But today, for some reason, he was full of surprises. Mello was shocked when he hit the floor hard, searing pain in his head enough to white out his vision. What the fuck? Matt had _tackled_ him?

By the time he recovered, Matt had him pinned. “Bastard. Taking unfair advantage,” Mello spit, trying to flip himself over at the very least, so he'd have a better shot at hitting him. What the fuck was he thinking? “You don't want me here anyway; let me go!” He cringed inwardly at the faint whiny note in his voice. Shit. He didn't want pity, so he went and sounded pathetic?

He finally got partially turned over, one wrist freed, though Matt caught it. “Stop struggling, asshole. You're just going to hurt yourself.”

Of course that only made Mello fight harder, muttering curses under his breath, though it was harder to breathe with Matt pinning him down like this. “What the _fuck_ , Matt? Let me go!” he said again, as though it might change something. He was pissed off already and all this thrashing was just making him hurt like hell. If he got up, he swore to himself that he really was going to hit him.

“No. I'm never letting you go again, Mello.” Matt's voice was perfectly calm and steady, as though he'd made a statement of some basic, unassailable fact, like that the Earth was round - something that was always true, unchanging, and unquestionable.

Mello froze. He'd never expected Matt to say _that_ , much less in that tone. What the hell did he mean by it, especially right now? He'd rejected him and, even worse, _pitied_ him for being hurt by it! Just thinking about it hurt, sharp splinters in his already shattered ego. Mello began struggling again, though he knew he wasn't going to win. He was at too much of a disadvantage; Matt both outweighed him and wasn't already injured. At least he managed to get turned over.

Finally he gave up, panting, and only shoved at him half-heartedly. “Let me up! You're heavy!”

“Are you going to try to leave again?” Matt sounded more determined that Mello had ever heard him and he marveled at it. Where had Matt, who had always been so easygoing, developed this stubbornness? He wasn't sure if he admired it or if it was just fucking annoying.

“Not right now. This fucking hurts!” He sounded sulky, but why shouldn't he be? This really did hurt like hell. First Matt landing on his back, then his raw skin getting carpet burns on top of the damage already there. He'd lost, and yet the reasons he had for trying to leave hadn't even changed!

“Fine.” Matt stood up and offered him a hand. Mello glared at it and hauled himself to his feet on his own. What the fuck, did he think he was helpless or something? Suddenly remembering his promise to himself, he balled his hand in a fist and punched Matt in the face without warning, then sulked off to the couch again, not even bothering to wait around for Matt's reaction. He lay gingerly on his stomach, avoiding putting pressure on his back while it was still stinging like this. It was less comfortable to work in this position, but he was almost getting used to it.

“What the hell?” He saw Matt wiping at the blood from his split lip, wincing, but he shut up when he saw what Mello was doing. Next time he noticed him, he was offering him painkillers and a glass of water, no sign of anger remaining in his voice or expression. “Here.”

Mello glared. This was just more pity, wasn't it? He should be pissed off that Mello sucker punched him like that, and instead he was offering him help? “Are you going to talk to me?” At the very least, he wanted an answer to his goddamn question. No more of these bullshit games.

Matt sighed. “Come on, Mello. I know you're in pain.” Silence. He hurt, but Mello was still damn stubborn. “Fine. Take the damn pills and I'll talk.”

Mello was still glaring, but he snatched the pills from him and swallowed them quickly. “All right. Let's go to bed since I'll end up there anyway,” and his expression let Matt know he didn't appreciate that part, “and you can tell me what the hell your issue is with letting me fuck you.” It sounded harsh, even harsher than he'd expected, but Mello didn't believe in using polite euphemisms for basic biological urges, and especially not when he was still pissed off.

His every movement as he got to his feet and strode to the bedroom advertised that he was both in pain and in a shitty mood. Matt knew both of those things, but Mello wanted to make sure he didn't forget. If he had to suffer, he'd make Matt suffer, too.

He lay on his good side, sheet pointedly only up to his waist. Until the pills worked, it was just too uncomfortable to have anything touching his skin, and Mello wanted Matt to notice and feel guilty about it. Since apparently he at least gave a shit about Mello's pain, he should feel guilty for making it worse. He waited in silence while Matt got in the bed on the other side, awkwardly eating chocolate with his head propped up on one arm. “Well?”

“You're an asshole,” Matt muttered, but Mello chose to pretend he didn't hear it. He wasn't about to let himself be distracted from the issue at hand. Matt should know better, really; Mello's focus when he was intent on something was practically legendary when they were kids struggling to be number one amongst geniuses, the best of the best, and hadn't changed much since.

He kept staring, refusing to relent, and eventually Matt gave in, like he almost always did. Maybe Mello couldn't win a physical fight between them at the moment, but he'd be damned if Matt could out-stubborn him. “Damn you. I've never slept with another guy, ok?” Matt stared at the ceiling, cheeks slightly flushed.

“That's it?” Mello couldn't believe it. Such a little thing, to cause so much pain. “That's why you rejected me? Are you afraid?”

“And if I am?” Matt turned even redder, still not looking at him.

He really was? Mello was amazed. Somehow he had never expected that of Matt. “I won't hurt you.” His voice was almost gentle, especially for him. “I was just moving too fast?” It was a guess, but Matt nodded. Stupid of him to be too embarrassed to say it, but Mello could at least understand that. And he hadn't been listening much at the time, not to words at least. “You should have told me. I'll go slow and make sure you enjoy it.”

Of course, that was assuming Matt still wanted him, but Mello was sure he did. His determination to keep Mello here spoke volumes, even without the fact that a guy who kept staring at Mello with desire for days, literally, wasn't going to suddenly be repulsed. Mello moved closer, reaching for Matt, and kissed him gently, tenderly. He wasn't usually gentle, but he could be. He could make this good for both of them, something Matt would want to do again.

His body, however, had other ideas. His back still felt like someone had decided to flay the already raw skin and it hurt to move even this little bit. Fuck. Today really, really wasn't his day. Mello sighed, frustrated. “... Tomorrow.”

At least Matt's eyes held only concern. “I'll wait. I'll still be here tomorrow.”

Matt always did, didn't he? No matter what Mello did, he was always there. Waiting for him to come back, for him to heal, for him to decide what the fuck to do. It could be a crushing burden if he let it be, but at the moment, it was a comfort. “I know.”  



End file.
